Basile
by Deviruchi
Summary: My first fic. An assassin gets himself into trouble with the Royal Guard. Rating lowered to T, title changed but story is exactly the same.


DISCLAIMER: I don't own Ragnarok Online, but I own the characters.

It was a cold December morning, in the grand city of Prontera. People were already waking up, walking to their businesses, or just plain going about in the usual hustle and bustle of Rune Midgard's capital city. Different kinds of merchants could be seen setting up shop, and children were playing around in the fields.

Silence.

Basile Ciro, an assassin, stared out the window of his room in Orion Inn, looking at the crowd down below. His slender frame allowed for swift movement, and his torn gray clothing was just enough to cover his entire body.

_"Let's have some fun, shall we?"_, he thought. This man's idea of fun was diving from any high place and killing any person in sight. It served both his thirst for blood and as his own way of sharpening his skills in survival and assassination.

Soon he would jump off the open window, in an attempt to kill the first person nearest him. He position his body in such a way that when he fell, he would fall headfirst. It was a high-risk maneuver, but when pulled off successfully, he would be able to kill his target almost instantly.

_"Now"_

The assassin pushed off the ledge and sent his body plummeting towards the ground. Adrenaline rushed in his veins as he felt the cool wind slapping his face, the ground getting larger as he fell. He knew others would think that he was committing suicide, but this man didn't care, just as long as he could kill. This was his game, after all.

_"Say goodbye"_ he thought, as he strapped his sharp, gleaming weapons on, two custom-made katars suited to fit his arms. He laced them with poison just seconds before he made a slicing motion with his arms, and did a somersault just before hitting the ground.

Evidently, there were two large cuts that went from the bystander's neck down to his hip in a cross-form. The poison took immediate action; his skin was turning blackish, and he shook violently. The assassin knew that his target had a very short amount of time before the poison stopped his target's heart.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven", said the assassin to himself.  
"Six, five, four..." How long should he wait? A smile formed on his lips as he watched the man suffer; he was suffocating.  
"Three, two, one..." The sound of angels suddenly filled the air. The man's wounds were healing almost immediately. An acolyte had intervened, as the assassin stood watching the man die, and he knew he was spotted.

The acolyte was hesitant for a moment, knowing he would lose his life should he call for help, but he opened his mouth anyway. "An assassin in the city! Assassin in the city!", screamed the terrified acolyte. He was rooted to his spot as he looked into the assassin's deadly gaze. He was too fearful to move, and in that instant, he felt a dagger go into his neck.

What was a small group of innocent watchers now became a large crowd. It seemed all the people in the Capital stopped their work to watch what would happen next in the real-life drama that they normally only see in plays. They saw the dying man; it seemed that the acolyte's efforts were fruitless. He was beginning to spit out blood; adding to the pains of his wounds that are now reopening. After all, the poison made by members of the assassin guild in Morroc was the most potent of poisons anyone could find. It couldn't be made with just anything.

A faint sound was heard above all the commotion. It was the sound of clanking metal on the cobblestone roads of Prontera.

_"Knights"_, thought the assassin. He knew he had the speed, agility and ability to conceal himself, but he chose to stand, and see what would happen next. This would add to the thrill, anyway.

"You have the right to remain silent! You can either do this the easy way or the hard way. Surrender now, or die fighting the fourth regiment of the Royal Guard of the Capital City of Prontera!", said a knight, with his golden armor shining in the morning sun.

_"He must be the commander of that group of lowlifes. This wasn't planned, but I guess it would be fun. How am I to escape?",_ thought Basile.

Just as he began to run, the entire area around him changed. He was back in the desert city, a remnant of the former glory of Morroc.

He was young again, a child full of hatred for the world. He had no family except for his little sister; as both of them were left on the streets of Morroc as children. As a boy, he grew to become a pickpocket, and eventually was trained by different kinds of assassins to kill people. He learned their cunning ways almost immediately, and soon was sent on different assignments, killing prominent individuals such as the Ambassador of Geffen, or even to commit large-scale massacres.

When he opened his eyes, he realized he was back in the busy streets of Prontera. He then saw the blood in his hands, but he knew this was not his. "There is no such thing as equality in the world until all the rich and elite all die, then we, the poor, shall rise up and the world shall be equal.", he said to himself, remembering the teachings of his first mentor. _"I never thought I'd have to use this, but..."_ he took out another bottle, one containing stronger poison, and drank some of it. The remainder was poured on his katars. The poison would heighten his senses and physical ability, at the cost of draining his strength with the passage of time. He had ten minutes to kill, run, or die.

_"...this is the only way!"_, he thought. He knew the knights had tough armors that covered almost their entire bodies, but they almost always go around without their heavy headgear on. He saw this as they marched towards him. Besides, his katars were more than enough to cause dents and holes in their armor.

Basile dashed towards the knights, and everything went into slow motion. His blades sang as he sliced his way through, killing each and every knight in his path with precision. When another group of knights boxed him in, he almost had no way of escape. Basile then swung his weapons in a blur and spun around, slicing through the nearest knights and hitting the ground, causing the road to have a crater around him, sending the rocks and dust towards his enemies.

Just as he began to run, a large hammer landed with a thud, causing the ground to shake. _"So they brought blacksmiths with them."_, he thought, as he sank to his knees. The blacksmith repeated this numerous times until he soon got dizzy, and he was swirling in darkness.

"Wake up!" A voice told him, and almost instantly his eyes opened, as he saw a knight standing over him, a foot pressed on Basile's shoulders.

The knight drew his sword and held it over him, preparing to strike. Just before he brought down his weapon, Basile rolled away just enough to distract the knight, to provide him with a two second window of time. In this time frame, he rolled on the ground and was able to escape death, but it was not enough to evade the blade of the sword, as it fell upon his arm.

He felt a warm trickle down his arm, then a continuous stream of blood started pouring. His arm may have not been chopped off, but it had a deep wound. The cut had been made so smoothly; the knight may have been skillful.

Basile gathered all his might and went back to slicing in fury, though not as powerful and furious as before, and went back to running. He ran past the west Pronteran gate, and kept running through the beautiful green field that surrounded Prontera City, his blood was trailing behind him.

He was weakened from blood loss and the aftereffects of the poison he drank in. Adrenaline no longer surged through his veins. His senses were failing him and he started walking clumsily, as though drunk.

He walked towards the wooden bridge over river just a few feet away from him. He let his body lean on the ropes supporting the bridge, and whispered to himself, "That was fun", knowing that he was able to escape an entire division of knights. He closed his eyes.

"Basile!", said a familiar feminine voice. Names went through his mind, but none clicked. And then...

"Akantha...", he whispered. It was his sister's voice he heard. She always said that it would have been better for them to just die on the streets, hungry, than having him earn sums of money by risking his life and killing other people.

"I'm sorry, sister, but I have to do this." He turned to face her.

"Basile! Stop killing! Why do you enjoy killing? What does it give you? Wake up, we are no longer suffering from hunger! What is wrong with you, brother?", said his sister. She wore a dark violet dress with a cut that went up her thigh. She was a priestess.

Basile stared at his sister for a moment, dropped his katars, and ran towards her. He had been taught to hide anything he felt, and right now he was feeling guilty. It was too evident for his sister, as they had known each other so long. Basile kept silent. Blood was dripping from his hands, and his clothes were stained with a mix of poison and blood from his previous struggle. His sister ran towards him as well, with tears in her eyes

"What have you done, Basile?", she said, as tears started falling.

"I'm sorry, Akantha."

_"It ends tonight"_ He drew another knife, coated it with the remaining poison in his small red bottle, and held it out at the last second.

He succeeded in killing her, her throat was sliced open, and she fell, lying on the ground. Basile stared at her as she suffocated, and his eyes were teary. He took out the last knife, and threw it at her heart.

For a few seconds she lay still, but slowly, her hands began to tingle, and soon, her whole body was shaking so violently that she was throwing herself around on the grass for a full minute. Then, she stopped. She was silent as she lay, and her soul drifted away from her body.

Basile heard the sound of metal once again. He looked around him, and saw, he was surrounded. He had nowhere else to go but the river behind him.

"Fire at will!", said a voice from the crowd, and soon, burning arrows were raining upon him as he ran towards the deep, dark river.

"It's now or never", he thought, jumping into the river almost gracelessly. He took one last look at the field and saw the arrows rain down on the river. He hit the cold water and felt the full force of the strong current. He tried to swim against it, but it was too much for his weakened body, and he drifted away, holding his breath.

"This is most certainly better than becoming target practice for a bunch of shameless knights as those of the Royal Guard", his three minutes of holding his breath were up. His body was already back to its involuntary breathing, and he ended up taking in the water, filling his lungs.

"With this, I say goodbye", he thought to himself as he lost consciousness. His body sank deeper and deeper into the river as the last bubbles went from his mouth to the river's surface.

END


End file.
